Safe from the Storm
by KkGgINoU
Summary: A short fluff because I felt like it. Sherlock is scared silly during a thunderstorm, so Mycroft sings him a lullaby. Kid!Lock. Second chapter is rated T and is Angst/Family.
1. Safe

A fluffy little tale which I thought up on the spur of the moment. (And because I'm not going to go to all the trouble of writing on Letters... but you didn't her that from me.) I know I haven't put out much, mostly because I've been very very busy with school and such. So maybe the completely heartbreaking feels from this story will make up for the slight hiatus.

* * *

A blinding flash of light threw shadows against the walls of a small bedroom. Mere seconds later, a monstrous boom shook the house and rattled the windows. Millions of drops of water pounded on the sidewalk and house, creating the sound of thousands of tiny footsteps dancing on the roof.

A young boy cowered under his bedspread. The thunder was too loud. The lightning was so bright. The raindrops told so many stories of their journeys through the atmosphere, it was hard to get them to finally shut up. The windows screamed as the rain hit them. And every time the thunder beckoned from outside, the boy would scream too. The Storm of the Century, as the boy remembered the weather forecaster had said, was killing him. Everything was too loud and too bright. He hated bright and loud. It hurt his head.

The child slowly began to rock himself back and forth. His curls waved in his eyes. How he hated the storms! The boy began to whimper.

Another wave of thunder sent him out of bed and running down the hallway outside his room. A particularly bright flash of lightning from the open door of the guest room threw him to the floor. He curled into a fetal position as the thunder roared and prayed to the storm to send the East Wind quickly, if that was what the storm was sent to do. Yet another flash of lightning got him up and charging to another room in the hall.

The beat on the closed door as if his life depended upon it. To him, it did. The occupant opened it slightly, and the boy rushed into the room, hiding under the covers of the owner's bed.

The taller boy walked back to his own bed and peeled the covers back. "Sherlock? What on earth-"

Another clap of thunder elicited a scream from the boy. He covered his ears and began to rock back and forth. He was beginning to hyperventilate. "Mycroft, Make it stop! I hate it! I HATE it! Make it stop!" He slowed to a whimper. "Make it stop... Please My... I'm scared." He began to cry.

The older boy looked with pity at his younger brother. It wasn't as if this had never happened before. Whenever there was a storm, Sherlock would always find a way into his room. Usually at the most ungodly hours of the night, as well. Mycroft picked Sherlock up and carried him to a rocking chair waiting patiently at the wall. The three year old continued to weep.

Sherlock spoke slowly, his voice thick with fear. "The East Wind is coming. It's coming for me, My. I just know it. I-" he broke into another sob.

"Hush..." Mycroft gently chided the boy, raising his index finger. "There will be no more of that kind of talk." He sat down. "The East Wind is not coming for you, Sherlock. You have many years yet to live on the earth."

"Promise?"

"Sherlock, as long as I'm here with you, nothing will happen. I promise." Mycroft began to move the rocking chair.

"The raindrops just say so much, My. They hurt my head. I... I don't know how to stop the _seeing_."

"How about I sing to you, so you don't have to listen to the rain?"

Sherlock buried his face into Mycroft's pyjamas when another flash of light flew across the room. A muffled "OK' was sent up through the fabric.

Mycroft thought for a moment while notes and words formed a lullaby in his head. He gently rubbed circles on Sherlock's back as he began to sing.

_Home and safe from the storm_

_never a worry or fear._

_You are safe from all evil_

_As long as you're with me here._

_Times and trials will rain down_

_Sheol will break loose from the deep_

_as long as I will be with you_

_Rest all ye weary and sleep_

_Never can darkness attack us_

_Never an evil befall_

_I will keep you protect you_

_Defending and giving my all._

_ Brother,_

_ You're Home and safe from the storm_

_Should never worry nor fear_

_Indeed you are safe from all evil_

_As long as I will be here._

_I will always be here._

Mycroft softly ended the song as the storm began to slow, then realized that Sherlock's eyelids were beginning to droop.

Sherlock nestled his head further into Mycroft's chest. "I like it when you sing, My. You sound so... Nice." He closed his eyes.

Mycroft smiled as Sherlock began to snore softly. He slowly twirled a lock of brown hair in his fingers. "Glad you approve, brother mine." His own eyes began to close.

* * *

So, what did you think? Any good?

The last week was really hectic, due to the placement testing that I had to deal with. I think I did horribly. In Sherlock's own immortal words- "Because you're an idiot." Anywhos. Once school is done, HOORAY! I will be able to put a lot more effort into stories.

Singing Mycroft was inspired by _What's in a Name?_ by GoldenVine. The storm references were of various sources. The lullaby was my own creation.

I do my own beta work. Please excuse grammatical errors.

All rights to BBC.


	2. Not Safe Anymore

!READ THIS NOTE ALL THE WAY THROUGH!

So, I know this was listed as complete, but I decided to make one more chapter. Because I needed to whump a bit.

He was a rubbish brother- This one is darker. The themes of this one can are an easy T. So please beware. I can't tell you much without giving away the story, but I will tell you that this is a big, dark departure from last chapter, and Mycroft is a bit mean. If you don't like characters getting tormented, do NOT read.

This isn't canon.

If you know what to look for, there's a huge SPOILER alert here.

* * *

Sherlock knocked on Mycroft's door. The thirteen year old had locked himself in his room for several days. Sherlock knew it was his fault.

"Mycroft? Please come out," Sherlock pleaded. He slowly turned the knob and walked in. Mycroft was hunched over his desk.

"Get out William. You aren't welcome here."

The five year old walked up to the desk and plopped down against it.

Mycroft looked down with a snarl on his face. "Did you not hear me, child? You are NOT welcome."

Sherlock's eyes began to get moist. "I know it's hard, My, but we can still be friends, can't we?"

Mycroft's attention shifted back to the desk.

"Don't you remember all the things we did together? When we used to go hunting for rabbits and frogs and things. You sang me lullabys." Sherlock paused as he stood up. "Did that mean nothing, brother mine?"

Mycroft looked down to the surface of the desk. His gaze traveled to Sherlock.

"Please, brother. Come back to us."

Mycroft got out of his chair and walked to the door, closing it.

"My, please. You don't have to walk this path alone."

Mycroft walked slowly towards Sherlock. It reminded the little boy of the way a lion stalked its prey. He slowly backed away.

"Where are you going, _brother mine_?" Mycroft's mouth parted into a maniac grin. His eyes blazed with an evil fire that Sherlock had never seen and never wanted to see again.

Sherlock bumped into the wall and began to panic. Mycroft continued to walk towards him. "Don't you want to play?" The older boy reached out and pinned his brother to the wall.

"Stop, My. You're scaring me. Please don't." Sherlock began to cry.

"You DESERVE to be scared!" Mycroft roared at Sherlock with a furious rage. Sherlock looked away. "He was just LITTLE and you KILLED HIM!" Mycroft pushed Sherlock roughly into the wall.

"It was an accident! I didn't mean to- Sherrinford was my friend too! Please stop, My." Sherlock whimpered. "You're hurting me."

"You deserve to be hurt! You deserve to die! Just like Sherrinford did! You want to help me deal with this? Rot forever in the deepest pit, _brother mine_." Mycroft released Sherlock and walked back to his desk. Sherlock sank to the floor.

Mycroft slumped in his chair, staring blankly at the wall. "Be gone with you, child. You are no longer my brother."

Sherlock quickly ran out of the room and out of the house.

Violet wondered what had happened when Sherlock ran past her by the flower beds.

-.-.-.-.-.-

_MISSING BOY FOUND_

_Four days after the missing persons report was filed by Mr. And Mrs. Holmes, William Sherlock Scott Holmes was found by the police barely alive in a ditch almost twenty miles into the fields from the Holmes residence. The child was hypothermic when he was found on a cold and foggy autumn night. The paramedics resuscitated him twice on the ambulance to the hospital and he remained in unstable condition for thirty eight hours._

_He since recovered, and has been able to return home, but an slight ear infection has somewhat inhibited his left ear's hearing thus far._

_What happens now to Mycroft Holmes: said agitator for the boy's disappearance- pg. A12_

* * *

Kind of a strange little thing that I wrote up for almost no reason at all on the spur of the moment. It's a pretty terrible piece for, in my opinion, fairly obvious reasons. But I needed to write something to get myself out of Writer's Block.

I am working on another big oneshot project. It will be a sily bit of humor. (Thank heavens!) It will be out on July... 19th, I think?

Anyways-

What did you think?

Review? Maybe?

Please excuse grammatical errors.

All rights to respective owners.


End file.
